


Everyone knows what instagram is

by mumblybee



Series: Coffee Shop AU [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:03:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4208937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblybee/pseuds/mumblybee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here's the answer to the prompt (from reeberry) that began the coffee shop au: "Carolina is a barista who has to confront York about loitering for three hours and using unflattering instagram filters on all his pictures of his now-cold third cup of coffee."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyone knows what instagram is

“Three hours,” said Carolina, folding her arms and staring down at York, who grinned innocently back from the little round table. She knew his name was York because he had introduced himself to her. Three times.

(“I’m York, but you probably remember me?” he’d said hopefully, the second time.

Carolina had raised her eyebrows at his goofy smile, his stupid haircut, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets in a poor attempt at Casual Cool Guy. Of course she remembered him. She remembered everyone. But she’d handed him his change with a shrug and a bland smile. “Maybe next time.”)

He was frozen mid-instagram at the moment, his phone still hovering over a cup of coffee (home brew, one shot of espresso, and way too much milk and sugar) that had to be cold by now. “Three hours?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows and slowly thumbing over to the camera button. Carolina winced at the flash and obnoxious shutter sound. What kind of technologically inept human being didn’t turn off the shutter sound? Flash was slightly more forgivable. But not by much.

“You’ve been here three hours,” she said stonily. “Your coffee is cold. And that’s the seventh picture I’ve seen you take of the same mug.”

“Yeah, but there’re these filters, see?” York said eagerly, waving her over to look at the phone’s screen. “I just got this thing, it’s called insta…gran? Instagram. Right. Look at this, man, have you ever seen this?”

“Everyone knows what instagram is,” Carolina sighed.

“Not me, I just found out yesterday,” York said brightly. “This is my first smartphone ever, can you believe it?”

“We close in twenty minutes,” Carolina said, turning away and shaking her head.

“Wait,” York said, scrambling to his feet and sending the mug flying from the table – Carolina lunged forward to grab it before it could hit the ground, cold coffee spilling over her hand and splashing up her arm. It really was cold. He’d been sitting there that long.

“Sorry, man, sorry,” York said, looking stricken. “Do you, do you have – oh.” He hurried over to grab the napkins from the basket and held them out to her in both hands, all crumpled and about to fall.

“It’s fine. It happens.” Carolina set the mug on the table and took a handful of napkins from him, leaning down to mop up the floor. York joined her hesitantly, babbling all the while.

“I was just, I was – sorry, man, I didn’t mean to stay so long, I just, uh, you guys have free wifi and free heating and cool music? And it sure beats wandering around the mall, y'know?”

Carolina straightened, tossing the napkins in the trash and giving York an appraising look as she wiped her arm on her apron. “Free heating,” she repeated.

He bounced to his feet and shrugged in a failed attempt at nonchalance, not meeting her eyes. “And good coffee. And – I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but…cheap coffee.”

Carolina frowned at him. “York,” she said. “That’s your name, right?”

He beamed like she’d just bestowed some sort of great honor on him. “Yeah!” he said. “Yeah, that’s it!”

She glanced at the clock, and then at the snow falling outside, and then at York’s conspicuous lack of coat. “We close in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh,” York said, deflating a little.

“But you can stay another forty-five.”

He blinked at her. “Yeah?”

“Just don’t spill anything else. And don’t get in my way while I’m closing,” Carolina said sternly, and he beamed again. Beamed. Light beaming from his face, practically. It was ridiculous and stupid and unacceptably charming.

“Can I instagram?” York asked as she walked back toward the counter. Carolina turned around just to give him an exasperated stare.

“Nobody says that,” she informed him, and he just kept on smiling.

He kept somehow, mercifully quiet as she closed the shop, and there were only a few shutter sounds and flashes from the back corner where she’d set him up with a new cup of (hot) coffee.

(“This is for drinking,” she’d told him. “Not instagramming.”

“Does anybody call it that?” he’d asked innocently, and she’d set the mug down hard enough to splash just a little onto the table, just a little too close to that smartphone of his. He’d looked delighted.)

“By the way,” she told him as she took the empty mug away, “My name’s Carolina.”

“I’ll remember that,” said York, and she offered him a small smile.

“Good.”


End file.
